


Winchesters x Reader: Fixer-Upper

by KingOfHearts709



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accident, Biking, F/M, Help, fixing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Be careful where you crash...or don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winchesters x Reader: Fixer-Upper

**Author's Note:**

> I rode my bike to school and I crashed, and I thought this up.  
> Note: This was actually going to be two chapters, but I looked and the second one was never finished, so I'll leave it to its unfinished fate on the document. xoxo

You rode your bike home like you always did at seven p.m., the tires rolling across the dirt as you pedaled. You let out a breath and tried pedaling harder, your open jacket flapping just a bit as your speed increased. The streets to your left were empty, so you turned onto the pavement. You hummed some Def Leppard song as you focused on moving up the hill before your right turn.  
"Dude, how old are you?" Sam asked Dean as they headed towards town.  
"I'm sorry, dude!" Dean argued back. "Twizzlers are better than Red Vines."  
"No, they're not. Look at this." Sam held up two different red licorice strands. "Red Vines are longer."  
"That's only to make up for how crappy they taste." Sam inched the Red Vine towards Dean's face.  
"Just try it, Dean," Sam said.  
"No, get that crap away from my mouth, Sam!" Dean said, swatting at the candy. The Impala swerved just a little bit.  
"Do it, come on,” Sam urged, pushing the Red Vine closer. “You know I'm right, Dean."  
"No, stop it! Will you-" The car swerved even more when the two brothers started wrestling, each with only one arm.  
Crash.  
The car stopped abruptly and both Winchesters looked out the front window.  
"I think we hit something," Sam said. Dean rolled his eyes.  
"You think?" he sighed sarcastically, opening his door. "I swear, if you-" Dean stopped when he saw you and your bike sprawled on the ground. You groaned and tried to focus on a tall figure.  
"Hey," a voice said. "Hey, you okay?" You felt your shoulder being shook before you blacked out.  
"Oh, son of a bitch," were the first words to leave your mouth when you woke up. You were in something moving and you were lying on soft, black leather. You could feel stinging in your mouth and on most of the right side of your body.  
"Holy crap, Dean, she's awake already," the man in the passenger seat said.  
"Really, already?" the driver replied, looking back at you.  
"What... How...," you tried asking, but you found that most of your breath was gone from your lungs. You coughed a couple times and managed to get out the sentence, "Who are you?"  
"Uhm...," the slightly moose-y one mumbled.  
"We're, uh, FBI," the one driving said.  
"I don't think you are," you sighed quietly, letting out a hollow chuckle.  
"Here." The passenger passed you two ID badges that looked fairly real. You could tell, obviously, that they weren't real.  
"What'd you do, make these out of paper and plastic?" you asked, sitting up as much you could. The badges were snatched out of your hands, which now stung.  
"Look, I'm Dean," the driver said. "This is Sam, my brother. We, uh... We hit you. With my car."  
"No, I think I got that part. But thank you for answering my question.” Sam sighed and looked you over again.  
“So, uh...we’re probably just going to drop you off at the hospital...,” he explained. “You know...we can’t really stick around for you.” You shook your head in denial.  
“No hospital,” you mumbled. “I’m not one for hospital bills.” Sam eyed Dean.  
“You don’t like doctors or nurses, huh?” Dean asked.  
“I don’t paying someone to fix me when I can do that myself.” Sam gave something of a cross between an impressed and slightly concerned face.  
“Well, I guess we can just fix you up at the motel,” Dean suggested.  
“Sounds like a plan,” you groaned.  
“Are you sure you want us to help you?” Sam asked. “Two guys in a car who just hit you with it?”  
“You two clearly have good intentions, so I’ll allow it.” You sat up a little. “By the way, where’s my bike?”  
“Oh, there’s no way that thing’s working again, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled heartily, shaking his head. “It was crushed like a messed up pretzel.” You whined or groaned or something and slumped.  
“There goes my ride to work,” you muttered glumly.  
The three of you arrived at the motel in a short amount of time, Sam helping you inside the room while Dean carried some kind of sack over his shoulder.  
“What’s in the bag?” you asked as Sam sat you down on the bed.  
“Nothing you need to see,” Dean said simply in a tone you could tell meant not to ask any more questions. Sam pulled out something like a large first-aid kit and pulled out bandages and band-aids, some kind of alcohol, dental floss, and some other supplies.  
“Some health kit,” you said, pushing around the bandages and inspecting the alcohol.  
“Lift up your shirt,” Sam instructed. You eyed him suspiciously.  
“Why do I need to lift up my shirt?” you asked him, confused.  
“If there are any kinds of things that need stitching, you’ll need them stitched before the wound gets infected.” You rolled your eyes and blushed, lifting up your shirt over your head to reveal (thankfully) a tight-fit bra that covered up your chest a lot. As it was no surprise, there was a lightly cut gash that ran from the middle of your side to the very tip of your hip.  
“Stitches?” you asked, hoping for the answer ‘no’.  
“Yep,” Sam said to your dislike. You groaned as Sam pried a little at the cut before grabbing the alcohol and running some through the wound. You hissed at the initial pain, but it ceased quickly. Sam then began stitching up your side carefully. You blushed even deeper everytime you felt his arm brush against your chest.  
Come on, you told yourself. Quit it. You’ve been in this situation before.  
To be fair, though, the previous time, your savior had felt you up on purpose. Sam seemed to be fairly more interesting in fixing you then feeling you.  
“Sam,” Dean said when he walked back into the room. “What’s...” he stopped when he saw Sam stitching your half-naked upper body.  
“It’s just a cut, Dean,” Sam sighed, looking at his brother. “Don’t start anything.”  
“I wasn’t going to start anything,” Dean held his hands up in defense, “I was just going to ask you to get food.”  
“Why can’t you go get it? I’m a little busy.” Dean shrugged.  
“How about I finish her up and you grab some grub?” Sam cut off the last strand of the dental floss he used and stood up. You quickly pulled on your shirt again, feeling much better. “I’ll let you drive,” Dean said, waggling the car keys.  
“I’ll drive the car anyways,” Sam said.  
“Yeah, but this time, I’m letting you know you can.” Sam rolled his eyes, knowing his brother was relentless, and snatched the keys before heading to the door.  
“I’ll be back,” he grumbled, shutting the door behind him. Dean walked over and looked around the bandages before picking one up.  
“Your legs hurt at all?” he asked.  
“Like a bitch,” you sighed. “My right one, mostly.”  
“Alright. Jeans off so we can wrap it up.” You rolled your eyes.  
“Seriously?” you asked.  
“You want help or not?” You whined quietly about excuses and pulled down your jeans slowly so as not to mess with any bruises or cuts. You looked down and saw that there was already a little bit of blood running down from your knee to your ankle, as well as several already-purple bruises scattered around the skin on the back of your leg. Thankfully (again), there were no such marks around where your underwear was.  
Dean took a cloth and swabbed at the blood before running alcohol on it as Sam did. Dean did the same thing as Sam had did, his arm brushing against your inner thigh every so often. Finally, he got to the large bandage to wrap tightly around your leg after all the band-aids and such were applied.  
“Back,” Sam’s voice jumped into the room as the door closed behind him. His footsteps stopped when he saw Dean wrapping you up. You sighed and groaned.  
“Do you both always run speechless with this kind of thing?” you asked. Dean tucked in the last of the bandage, and you pulled on your jeans, rushing to be covered.  
“Not...usually,” Sam said, setting what looked like burgers and some fries on the table.  
“What do you mean, ‘not usually’?” you asked, curious.  
“Look, it’s not like we have women in our motel rooms every night,” Dean said, putting away the supplies.  
“We just...,” Sam started, but couldn’t quite find the words.  
“How about we just eat?” Dean suggested, breaking any sudden tension and grabbing a burger, tossing it your way.  
“I thought you might be hungry or something, so I got you some food, too,” Sam said.  
“Good job, Sam,” you said, unwrapping your burger and taking a bite. “I haven’t eaten real food since last night.”  
“Real food?”  
“You know. Proper meals. All I’ve had to eat today is a granola bar and a bottle of water lasting throughout the day.” You took another large bite, the brothers both just watching you as you devoured the meal. It took you almost less than five minutes as you swallowed your last bite.  
“Someone’s hungry, then,” Dean said, looking down as his half-eaten burger.  
“Starved all day,” you said. “But I think I’m okay to go home now.”  
“Home?”  
“Yeah. I still need to go to work tomorrow.”  
“Look, I don’t think you’re in any condition to go home, let alone work,” Sam interjected.  
“Look, Sam, this is my only job and my only source of income. I’m not giving that away from one bike accident.” Dean ran a hand over his face as Sam sighed.  
“Look, how about we’ll take you to work tomorrow, and you just stay here for tonight,” Dean said.  
“Where’s she going to sleep?” You looked around spotting only two moderately sized beds pushed together and no couch.  
“I’m fine with the floor,” you said, raising your hand. Sam looked down at the beaten, hardwood floor that could pass as comfortable for a dead body.  
“After you just had me stitch you up? You’ll break the bond.”  
“Just sleep on the bed,” Dean said.  
“Where’re you going to sleep, then?” you asked.  
“Look, the beds are big enough to fit all three of us.” You raised your eyebrows.  
“You’re kidding, right?”  
“Does it look like I am?” His face was serious. So was Sam’s. You raised up your arms.  
“Fine! Let’s all sleep in the same space like three people having a freaking sleepover,” you said, only a little unhappily.  
But if you had to be honest, this could be nice.  
It was late and Sam and Dean had already fallen asleep. You, on the other hand, were still awake, staring at the empty space between the two brothers.  
“This is so weird and creepy,” you whispered to yourself as you tried to crawl into the bed and under the covers. In reply, both brothers ended up snuggling near you in some odd instinctive way. You sighed and closed your eyes.  
This is nice, you thought.  
Best bike accident ever.


End file.
